


Love and War

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Allusions to Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Thranduil's second wife finds herself at odds with the elvenking, while Thranduil notices the curious eyes of the Bowman.





	Love and War

Your chainmail made a series of chinks as you climbed down from your mount. The destrier snorted as you turned back to the train of wagons halting to your rear. The scene before you was devastating; a whole people stranded along the shoreline, their homeland and livelihoods lost. Many of them bore the wounds of their attacker; burns singed along their flesh, baring the raw muscle beneath. Those were those who had survived the flame; many would have already perished.

Children flocked around your skirts, tugging at the links that hid your wool gown. You waved to the driver of the first wagon, “The bread,” You ordered. The elf diligently climbed into the back of his vehicle and retrieved several loaves. He handed over the first which you passed to the first three children before you. They looked to be siblings, clinging to each other as they accepted the loaf. 

“Go take it back to your parents. We should have a stew cooking soon to accompany it.” You advised. They scampered off and you turned to the next child; her skin was blackened from smoke but no dire wounds marked her. You handed her a loaf, offering the same advice as you wiped away the ash on her cheek with your thumb.

Further down the line, another driver was distributing cups of water and weak ale. Another was boiling a large vat for tea. You hadn’t noticed at first that your husband was not alongside you. You had been so distracted by the carnage that he had whisked away unseen. He often did that and it grew ever more irritating with time

. You sighed as you knelt to speak with the next child, dabbing away the blood on her forehead with your handkerchief. “It’s not very deep,” You assured, “But I’ll have my healer look at you. Is that alright? She’s a friendly elf. Do you feel well, my dear?”

The little girl merely nodded, her lips trembling fearfully. You couldn’t imagine the chaos she had witnessed. Your own memories of dragon fire remained hellish in your mind; the ruin before you brought them to the forefront. You took the girls hand, gathering several other children who were visibly wounded. The healer’s tent was only just being erected; several elves worked to plant the poles in the loose silt of the shore.

Dinela, the steely-haired healer greeted you with sad eyes. She smiled at the children and called for a stool to be brought to her. She sat and welcomed the first child with her calm voice. There wasn’t much to say; only work to be done.

You said farewell to the children, promising them food and treatment. You looked over the dirty beach; a lull of pained moans and morose weeping filled the air. The smell of sand was tarnished with that of blood and soot. A silver figure stood among the displaced masses. Thranduil, your husband and king, spoke solemnly with a dark-haired man. A little girl clung to the human’s shirt tails, two other, taller youths sat on a musty log nearby. They were the same three children you had given the first loaf of bread.

You stepped between those groaning in the sand awaiting tending and those lined up for their bowl of stew, still cooking in the cauldrons. You knelt a few times over the wounded, offering words of strength and comfort. These people were lost but not hopeless.

As you neared your husband, the brown eyes of the man strayed, drawn to the shimmer of your armour in the muffled sunlight. The clouds had yet to break over the grey waters. Thranduil’s deep voice died as he followed the man’s gaze and turned to you. “Darling,” He greeted before looking back to the human, “I was just speaking with Bard. He is the leader of these people now. Bard, this is my queen, Y/N.”

“What happened to The Master?” You wondered, though the answer didn’t need to be said.

“We should be glad for his demise,” Your husband spoke callously, “Bard is a much more suitable ruler. Brought down the beast himself. He is wise. Pragmatic.”

“You mean he won’t oppose in your fight with the dwarves,” You murmured.

Thranduil ignored your reproach, returning his attentions to Bard. You frowned at his shoulder but said no more. You had argued half the night over the Mountain. You hadn’t thought it prudent to incite more violence. The dragon was slayed and more pressing was to settle these people in their new homes. Another battle would only spread further destruction.

You turned to the girl Bard’s side, kneeling as you greeted her. “Hello, what’s your name?”

“T-Tilda,” She stuttered, her cheeks turning rosy. She had mostly hidden behind her sister when they had come for food. You offered your hand kindly, “Would you introduce me to your siblings? I didn’t quite get your names before.”

She shyly took your hand and you let her guide you to the log where the other children sat. “This is Sigrid and Bain,” She announced as you neared. You sat beside the boy, your chain mail brushing noisily against the wood, “This is the elf queen, her name is, um…”

“Y/N,” You filled in for her as she climbed up beside you, “I hear your father slew the dragon.”

“I was there,” Bain spoke up, “I helped guide the arrow…” His voice drifted off. The moment of triumph likely amidst a scene of decay.

“A brave boy.” You smiled at them, “All of you are very brave. I can tell.”

“But…there’s nothing left,” Bain said, “We have no home. None of us.”

“Why, that’s why I’m here,” You sang, “To help you find a new one. A nicer one.”

You knew the words were of little comfort. They had watched their childhood home burn and that was a sacred loss. You glanced around the beach, the smell of broth filling your nostrils. You heard a growl rumble in Tilda’s stomach. 

“Why don’t we go fetch some soup? It would go well with the bread.” You stood, offering your hand once more to Tilda, “Come on. All three of you.”

* * *

You stared out at the dark mountain. The silk of the tent flapped beside you in the breeze, your arms crossed over your chest. The starless sky reflected your mood.  _Much of the last days had been spent arguing with your husband. What were jewels to the ruin of a people’s home? Or a people’s return to their once lost land?_  You didn’t care about the stones, they had never belonged to you. They had been meant for the elfess before you.

 _It was the principle,_ Thranduil had insisted, _those dwarves have wronged Mirkwood for the last_.

You couldn’t stop replaying the endless tet-a-tet in your head. Why could he not let his greed subside for the sake of others? He would reign death upon any who stepped in the way of his avarice. He had left the compassionate part of him back in his palace. That sacred piece of himself he hid before everyone but you. Yet now, even you could not find it.

You were drawn from your vigil by a deep voice. It’s accent assured you it was not your husband’s. You hadn’t heard the human arrives, nor Thranduil welcome him in. You let your arms fall and tightened the belt of your robe. You had finally the chance to remove the weight of your mail and the silk was intoxicatingly smooth against your chafed skin. The cool night breeze filled its tail as you crossed to the fabric wall which separated you from the next room.

As you entered, neither human or elf noticed you. You sat on the chaise opposite them. Bard stood as Thranduil reclined in his impromptu throne. The elven king sipped from a glass of wine, as he often did when mulling over and over the same thought. His silver eyes were alight in the dim of candlelight. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands as your robe slipped open to reveal a smooth leg.

You sighed as you listened to Thranduil. He repeated the same speech he had offered you. Your sudden breath of air drew the eyes of the human, his grey irises finding the bare skin of your leg. Elves were much less modest than his kind. You always thought it quite drab how they cloistered themselves in their clothing. You weren’t surprised by the straying of his gaze.

Your husband’s eyes followed as he realized he was no longer the fount of attention. A thick brow raised and his shoulders pushed back. He visibly bristled at the man as he finally looked back to him.

“I apologize for not being so intriguing as my wife,” Thranduil hissed, “Though I daresay that is why I married her.”

“Hmm?” Bard drew his brows together innocently. “I wasn’t–I didn’t realize she was here, is all.”

“She always makes an entrance,” Thranduil slithered, “In her own way.”

“Tell me, Bard,” You interrupted your husband before he could spark your wrath further, “How are your children?”

“Well, I think…as well as they can be. They asked after you as well,” Bard was blatantly keeping his eyes above your head. You looked to Thranduil who was glaring at both of you throughout the exchange.

You stood and turned to your trunk, digging around until you found the small velvet pouch within. You crossed to Bard and took his hand in your, pressing the purse into his calloused palm. “Some sweets. For you and your wonderful children.” You smiled, “I’m sorry to interrupt but I should ask a moment alone with my husband.”

“Of course,” He bowed his head and tucked the pouch under his jacket, “I will tell the children you said hello.”

Bard departed with a brief farewell to Thranduil, both meeting each other with unbending prudence. You let the corner of your mouth twitch with amusement as your husband turned to you. “Have you made yourself feel adequately alluring?”

“I can’t help the human’s lack of discipline. He needs a wife of his own to keep his whims at bay,” You mused.

“Do you propose to leave me then?”

“Don’t be preposterous, Thranduil, or are you so set on pushing me away?” You huffed. He rolled his eyes, scowling at the floor. You tilted your head in exasperation, setting your hands on your hips in a show of displeasure. “I pledged to follow you, husband, through good and bad. We may disagree but I wouldn’t be so impetuous, unless you continue to act so…maybe we did marry too soon.”

“Don’t…say that,” His voice was low and sullen. His eyes flicked up, sparkling in the lowlight.

“You sit here, determined to fight over a piece of her. This has not to do with me so how could I think otherwise?”

“She is my son’s mother. Was…” He stood, nearing you carefully as if you would lash out at him, “It is not for my own heart, but his.”

“I haven’t the will to argue further,” You resigned as he took your hands in his, “I know I cannot deter you from the path you’ve chosen, but the truth shall arise when you retrieve your bounty.”

“They are a queen’s jewels, would you not–?”

“Don’t you even presume to set that necklace around my throat or I should choke from it,” You snapped.

“No, no, never,” His hands went to your shoulders as you refused to look him in the eye, “They shall be reserved for Legolas’ princess, whenever he should find one. I promise.”

“You promise? You promised to love and cherish me, as I did you. But she’ll ever be there between us.”

“She’s not. She’s far behind me. You are all I see, nin mel,” He drew you closer. You let him press you against his chest, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, “Only you.”

You stayed silent, unconvinced. You felt the tears prickle, sniffing as the sudden spring of grief overcame you.

“Please, don’t cry,” He brushed the hair from around your face, bringing your chin up so that you would look at him, “I love you. Forever and always. All I ask is that you support me in this. You’ve always treated Legolas so well, would you forsake him his legacy?”

“I will not fight the dwarves,” You said quietly, “I see now reason for it. I would go with the women and children and watch over them…”

“I understand, nin mel, you have always had a tender heart,” He touched his forehead to yours, “Do you still love me?”

“Always,” You relented, “I pray this battle is swift…promise me, if given the chance, that you’ll show mercy.”

Thranduil inhaled, his nose brushing against yours, “I promise. On my heart.” He kissed you, gently, sadly. He knew as well as you that this war could determine the fate of his own marriage. It was a kiss of resignation, of farewell. If the battle did not claim his life, it may just claim his love.


End file.
